


Somehow

by aionyu (Zolatte)



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, injured!Tim, some TTK involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolatte/pseuds/aionyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Off a Tim/Kon prompt: “Tim sleeps naked! Kon finds out somehow!”<br/>NSFW artwork attached. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somehow

**Author's Note:**

> My first time posting fic in years, so be kind. This is a follow-up fic to a nsfw drawing I did for the Tim/Kon meme. The art is posted below.  
> [Tumblr Fic Link](http://aionyu.tumblr.com/post/11333236711/)  
> [Tumble Art Link](http://aionyu.tumblr.com/post/11245099500/)

It’s almost a dream come true.

Almost, if it weren’t for the sling, bandages and bruises littering Tim’s languid body.

Conner had stopped by Tim’s new apartment expecting his best friend to be awake and brooding at two in the morning. He knows his role as Red Robin is temporarily decommissioned due to the little bastard who fractured his arm and ribs when he accompanied the former Batgirl in Hong Kong the week earlier, and there is little reason why Tim would be occupying the Manor when he now has a shiny new cave of his own.

What the teen didn’t expect was to find Tim  _sleeping_ , and sleeping in nothing but his birthday suit.

Kon stares at the scene before him. Painkillers sit at the nightstand. Tim’s torso is being propped up at an angle by a wedge pillow, no doubt to lessen the pressure on his ribs and the fractured right arm resting across his bruised midsection. That display pains him, but the rest…

The light from the outdoor street lamps illuminates the sharp curves and defined muscles of Tim’s body. It highlights the raven strands of his hair and his scars seem to glow against the pale pigment of his skin. His face is relaxed, eyes closed, and the rise and fall of his chest occur at an even and steady pace. Tim’s conditioned legs are spread just wide enough to reveal his sex, and everything about this display—it’s beautiful, and incredibly inviting.

Conner swallows. It would be wrong to have Tim like this, possibly intoxicated with medication, injured and broken and—

He’ll at least let Tim know he’s here. Or just, share the space next to him. Watch him while he sleeps. Wonder why he’s naked. That really has him confused.

He’s no stalker. He’s just mesmerized. It isn’t often that Tim looks completely vulnerable, even during the moments they’ve shared after sex.

Conner floats up to the bed and lands softly on the open sheets to Tim’s left. He’s sitting, listening to the sounds of Tim breathing, watching the shadows cast from his abdominals shift with every intake. It’s relaxing, and it feels like his need to  _touch_  has pretty much cooled off.

He’s concentrating on the thick scar running along Tim’s abdomen. The splenectomy, Conner recalls, and all it is is a reminder of how reckless Tim was after everything was taken from him. The thought is painful; if he had returned and found out that Tim was dead, well, he doesn’t want to think about that.

The scar is thick and there’s a reflective shine to it when the light makes contact, and before he realizes it Kon is reaching out and tracing the marred skin. It jumps under his fingertips and Kon is suddenly aware of what he’s done and pulls back his hand but it’s too late; there’s a shift in breathing and he hears a nondescript sound behind him. 

“Kon?” Tim breathes out, his voice tired and soft.

Tim’s face is just at the edge of his vision but he doesn’t want to turn and have  _that_ conversation. The conversation addressing the reason  _why_  he felt he had to molest his naked buddy while he slept. The conversation that might lead to him getting his balls cut off with a kryptonite blade. And ouch, because that thought hurts. So Conner just faces forward, and thinks on the spot.

“Yea,” Kon answers carefully, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” And that’s exactly the question he doesn’t know how to answer, so Conner sticks to a partial truth because he’s a terrible liar.

“You’re battered up pretty badly, man,” That’s definitely true. “I thought you needed some cheering up. I didn’t think you’d be asleep.” All truths, and Kon thinks he’s safe.

“Mmm…” Tim sighs, content with Kon’s answer. His free left hand is stroking Kon’s lower back, tickling and urging Kon to look at him. So he turns, and Tim’s head is lolled towards him, eyes half-lidded and directed right at him under dark lashes, and Superboy is stupefied because he’s looking into the most enticing pair of bedroom eyes he’s ever seen.

He must have been really content with Kon’s answer.

Conner catches the slight twitch on Tim’s mouth and it’s an invitation, and in an instant their mouths are sliding smooth against each other, slow but getting frenzied every second and Tim is moaning a little into the kiss. He must also be high, because really, the nudity, the stroking, the look, the sounds; Kon knows he should stop but Tim’s tongue is hot against his and his teeth are nipping at his bottom lip and Kon can’t help but go with the flow.

He’s balancing on his right hand and stroking Tim’s scar with his left, fingertips brushing against the happy trail to the source emanating heat, and Conner is careful not to strain Tim’s shoulders as he deepens the kiss, but Tim’s left hand is traveling up his shirt and fondling his stomach muscles before undoing the belt and popping open the button of his jeans.

The heel of Tim’s palm rubs rough against his hardening length, and Kon groans heavily into Tim’s mouth. It’s what he  _needs_  right now and it feels so good, but without thinking he presses his body against Tim’s damaged torso. 

Everything stops abruptly when Tim hisses in pain, his left hand clutching at his ribs and his eyes are closed shut. And Conner is ready to apologize, ready to bolt off to the bathroom to take care of himself before apologizing some more and leaving Gotham embarrassed as hell, but Tim appears to have recovered and is squeezing him again, gazing into him and he’s the one who looks apologetic.

“Are… you okay?” Kon stutters.

Tim smiles this tiny smile that makes Kon shiver. His fingers rub the glans of Kon’s dick through his boxers and his brain checks out for a moment before he hears Tim respond, “I  _could_  feel better,” and damn that proposal is tempting.

But it’s wrong. While Tim is attractive on his own, he’s never been so  _forward_  when propositioning sex, and it’s strange. Conner recalls the painkillers next to Tim’s bedside. He must be delirious or something.

Sensing Kon’s apprehension, Tim calls out, “Kon,” and like the psychic he is, states, “it’s just aspirin.”

But still. The fractures. “Are you really up for it?”

And the next thing he knows Kon is grinning at Tim’s awful sense of humor when the other teen tries to thrust his clearly erect dick in the air, but he’s cut short and shudders when a fingernail grazes  _his_  dick, so Kon goes back to kissing Tim’s mouth hungrily.

Conner’s hand grips Tim’s hot erection and he hears Tim whimper and utter a “Please,” between their locked lips. With great will Kon pulls off Tim’s mouth and Tim attempts to follow him, but he pushes Tim’s head back onto the pillow with his right hand because he doesn’t want Tim to hurt himself and he softy pecks Tim’s pleading face.

“Stay.”

It’s not like Kon to be ordering Tim, but Tim isn’t complaining when Conner removes his shirt and rearranges himself, Tim’s left leg resting between his clothed pair, Kon’s face just inches away from his cock. The incline of the wedge pillow allows Tim to see Conner bend down and lay a wet trail up his trembling thigh and into his groin; he watches as Conner buries his face at the join where his leg meets his torso and he breathes in.

“K-Kon,” Tim calls out, imploring, and Conner pumps Tim’s cock a few times before he goes down and tastes up his length.

He’s surprised when he hears Tim lose it, breathy moans and whimpers calling out his name. Tim, who is always in control even between the sheets, is thrusting up and his body is begging and it’s  _so_  different. It’s such a turn on and he needs more, which is why Kon takes the smooth head into his mouth and goes down.

His left hand is pumping while his mouth works the shaft, sucking hard at the top and flicking his tongue into the meatus, feeding off the intervals of Tim’s trembling cries. But after a while soreness sets in his jaw and Kon is forced to pull off, so he decides to try and tease, but not before seeing Tim with his head arched up, free hand fisting the expensive sheets, and Kon must be leaking into his boxers.

The swift contact of Tim’s leg into his groin is unexpected, and “Fuck,” Conner gasps. Tim’s left knee is now between them and his shin is hard against his dick but he’s Superboy; hard is welcome so he starts thrusting into Tim’s bare leg.

Tim is watching him now as they establish a rhythm; Tim rocking on his heel to meet Kon’s thrust, Kon’s left hand achieving a twist and a downstroke, Tim panting aloud and in sync into the street-lit room. More and more his glans gets exposed, peeking out from the waistband of his boxers with every thrust, and every time they make contact it feels _incredible_.

Tim is leaking onto Kon’s hand, the quality of his voice wavering, and Kon knows Tim is on the edge. Truthfully, he hasn’t used his tactile telekinesis much in the bedroom, but the sounds Tim is making are getting to him and he really needs for him to come.

Conner knows Tim  _feels_  it as he manipulates his TTK to become an undulating pressure running down the cleft of Tim’s ass, brushing and pushing against that sweet spot underneath his testicles, tickling a path down his inner thighs to travel between his toes and stretch down the soles of his feet before changing course and following the same route up. He feels it, and Tim all but stops breathing, the sensations too much, his hands into fists and his toes curling, and then he’s cursing and shouts, “F-fuck, Kon,” before shooting seed all over Kon’s fist.

He loves it when Tim calls out his name during sex, and that earnest shout alone brings him to the edge, every whimper pulling him closer and closer and he’s thrusting and grinding and listening. And Tim moans out his name again, a quiet breathy moan that has him look up and find Tim watching him, giving him that same look, half-lidded eyes and pleading and “S-shit—”

Conner is coming, grunting as if he’s been punched in the gut, and his semen splashes hot over his abs and onto Tim’s leg. 

They’re both breathing hard, heavy panting saturating the bedroom, the two teens soaking in the post coital high. Kon is balancing himself over Tim’s knee while Tim relaxes his muscles and evens out his breathing.

“I,” Kon laughs breathlessly, breaking the silence and looking at the mess between them, “I think I just humped your leg.”

Tim looks amused and throws him a ready towel from his bedside. In less than a minute, Conner wipes them clean, removes his remaining clothing and plops face down into the empty spot beside Tim. He turns and kisses those lips unhurriedly, tongues sliding softly until Tim pulls away and nuzzles Kon’s cheek, his free hand absently scratching the back of Kon’s head.

“So, molesting me while I was sleeping,” Tim starts, “I should kick your ass.”

Conner stills. It’s  _that_  conversation and the once welcome silence is now stifling. 

He thinks Tim is going to maybe kick him out or something, contemplating his revenge in this calm before the storm, but Tim still has his hand in Kon’s hair and is holding on almost tenderly. 

“I’m sorry,” Kon responds quietly, and the other teen hums in acknowledgement.

So maybe he’s not going to find himself castrated, because Tim  _seems_  content, holding on to Kon and nodding off, but there’s something still niggling at the back of Kon’s mind.

“Are you sure you aren’t,” and Kon tries to find the right words, “…under the influence?” he asks, doubtful.

“Hm?”

“I mean, you were sleeping in the nude, man, and you were…” What’s the word he thinks, “ _vocal_.” He’s not complaining, far from it, but it’s all so new to Conner that it’s strange.

“Did you dislike it?” Tim asks, and Kon has to pull away and look at Tim like he’s crazy.

“Hell no.” He states, “Just, wondering  _why_.” Because he never lets himself go like that.

Tim turns his head a fraction away from Kon, and he looks relatively shy when he says, “I have a place of my own now. Provided that nobody else is here, I’m free to walk around stark naked or be as vocal as I want.” His dim blue eyes glance up at Kon and the subtle invitation hits him, and Kon just stares dumbstruck. Dream come true, indeed.

“And the sheets are soft,” he adds with a smirk. 

He’ll need to keep a toothbrush here Kon thinks, right before his thoughts shortcircuit from the heated tongue tasting his lips.


End file.
